Work Text:
Once again, with the passage of only a few days, the world is less fatalistic and terrible.
He comes home from assisting with the birth of a calf, which is, among other tasks, how he is paying for their stay in this village.
And finds Daniil downstairs, sitting on the floor, by the unlit fire.
There are crumpled medical notes that he seems to be pulling endlessly from his bag.
“What-“
“The woman from nearby left you something.”
A package wrapped in paper and string on the kitchen table.
It contains some vegetables and a piece of meat.
And ‘nearby’ to the cottage they currently occupy is at least an hour’s walk.
“I’ll make borscht. The type you like; with too much sour cream and not enough beetroot.”
“I have enough beetroot.”
Daniil flops down onto his back, on the floor, laughing.
Artemy shakes his head.
“I’d forgotten that I told you that the other day.”
Daniil sniggers from his place on the floor, looking over to Artemy, clearly still amused at his own joke.
Artmey prepares their meal quietly, occasionally glancing over to where Daniil has returned to reading his notes.
If only all days could be like this.